


i’ve always wanted to die clean and pretty

by cultss



Series: you are a heart for sale, selling yourself short [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Family Dynamics, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Insane Wilbur Soot, Mental Breakdown, Not Beta Read, Parental Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Sort Of, Villain Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug, Wilbur Soot-centric, he gets one! it doesn’t end well :3, i feel like there’s a nicer word than that, i think, ish, phil thinks he’s a bad dad but hes not, spoilers for the second war (dream smp)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:20:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27599492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cultss/pseuds/cultss
Summary: Wilbur blows up L'manburg and Phil puts a sword through his sons stomach, he figures he owes him this much.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson
Series: you are a heart for sale, selling yourself short [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023676
Comments: 69
Kudos: 576





	i’ve always wanted to die clean and pretty

**Author's Note:**

> no ones written anything about phil shanking his son yet so i decided to jump in the cadillac and put some miles in it!
> 
> title from mitski’s last wish on a shooting star

He knows perhaps, that this is his fault. Wilbur is half laughing, half sobbing as he watches the ensuing chaos surrounding them clearly at a loss of what to do next. His face is a horrifying mix of confusion and guilt and joy and relief, as if he was being torn apart from the inside out. He looks so scared. 

Phil thinks back to the doe eyed boy he found in the remnants of a fire terrified out of his mind. He remembers the stark difference the scene was when compared to a baby Techno struggling to hold a gold sword nearly double the size of him, surrounded by dead mobs, shaking like a leaf, covered in blood. Even then compared to a rambunctious Tommy that had picked the wrong pockets and ended up giving a group of pillagers the run around before Phil and Techno had gotten there. The thing about Wilbur was that he came with the promise that he wouldn’t have the same history of necessary violence that came packaged with the other two. When Wilbur took interest in the old guitar hidden in the corner of the loft over phil’s extensive weapon collection, he counted his blessings. When he chose to wear sweaters instead of suits of armour Phil wanted nothing more than to thank whichever past life he’d led that allowed for at least one of his sons to live a normal life. 

He realises now that the problem stems from the fact that he assumed Wilbur was easy. He didn’t have Technos past of violence as the only sizeable means of survival under an oppressive ruler, where blood was the only thing that could be weighed in gold. Neither did he have Tommy’s history of constantly being hurt by those closest to you, of having to mature far too quickly far too young. He knows that both of these things are why techno is so bloodthirsty, why he hates any and all authority. It’s why Tommy’s so childlike in his mannerisms, why he hides his intelligence behind a brash facade. However all there’d ever been with Wilbur was a boy and a fire and that was that. only now does he realise he has no idea what happened that night, he has no idea why his son is doing this. 

And all of sudden Phil realises that he knows nothing of his son, he knows each and everyone of Tommy’s friends at least by name, be it from home visits or frantic, rambling letters that perfectly encapsulated the boys chaotic energy. He knew of all of Technos exploits long before anyone else, knows who he considers a valuable ally or skilled rival. Remembers when he had ducked his head and rubbed his neck when explaining how he had been dragged into a prank war by someone who reminded him far too much of his two brothers, be it Tommy’s energy or Wilbur’s mischief. 

He knows that Wilbur worked under a man named Jack for a short while, knows he dabbled in skyblock, knows he joined smplive, knows he took part in tournaments. But the details are sparse and the pages are blank and for the life of him Phil can’t think of any reason why other than his own faults as a father. He thinks back to smp earth, when he and Techno ruled with a fake iron fist, when Tommy would star random skirmishes and declare war for fun. He thinks about how happy he was that Techno was opening up to others, how Tommy was finally making a name for himself, how Wilbur built a bridge and looked at him with such genuine disappointment for making people lose their homes over what was just a bit. 

And there in lies the problem, doesn’t it. even now on a server full of people who love his son he doesn’t know why or how. He knows Niki is kind and soft and unwavering in her strength, he knows she bakes and she sings with Wilbur but he does not know why. He knows that Fundy is terrifyingly smart and mischievous enough to be jokingly considered Wilbur’s offspring, he knows the fox is desperate to carve out his place in history by any means necessary but he still doesn’t know how he and Wilbur met. He knows that Tubbo loves bees and redstone and solving problems, he knows that to Wilbur he is as much of a brother as the two boys he was raised with, but he does not know what makes them so close. 

Phil knows that he built L’manburg with his heart and his words and his strength. He knows that Wilbur stared down what was practically god with the same determined look in his eye and the same disappointment on his face during the Saint-Malo trials. The same way he would always be when innocent people were being treated unjustly. He knows no matter what that Wilbur went into that war with the knowledge that no matter what, underneath the netherite armour and the green robe and the soulless ceramic mask that dream was just as intrinsically human as the rest of them. After all he had seen a bigger and scarier monster at his worse long before and he had helped his brother out of those ruts each and every time. 

Phil knows many things, he is old and worn and a survivor through and through. But looking at his son now; covered in the residue of explosives, swaying on unsteady feet, grin stretched so far across his face it must hurt, tear tracks that seem to never end and a dazed lost look in his eyes as that had never been like that before. He knows that he has missed so so much. 

There is no answer as to how his boy had ended up like this, a strung together mockery of who had he raised. All at once Wilbur lurches forward, all gangly and uncoordinated limbs that reminds Phil of a time when he was still a awkward teenager only just growing into his natural charisma and talent, it still feels like it couldn’t have been that long ago. But instead of the fumblings akin to a new born fawn, it’s a man so unstable his perception of reality has entirely shattered. Phil feels himself being tugged forward by sweaty, shaking hands and looks up. His son is staring at him with piercing eyes, like he was attempting to bore holes into his skull. Wilbur towers over him and Phil wonders how long he’s been this tall for. 

He nervously runs his hands up and down his fathers green coat, twitching ever so slightly. “Phil, you have- you have to kill me.” Wilbur rasps out, eyes blown wide as he starts to hyperventilate. And for a moment Phil is surprised at how quickly the rug can be pulled under him even when he’s assumed the worst has already happened. Yhere are a million things he probably should say, but instead all he can do is anguishly beg, as if he was the madman and not the desperate form in front of him begging for salvation. 

For a brief moment Wilbur looks behind him, at the anarchy that he should be revelling in. But instead he turns back to phil, somehow looking even more like a ghost as starts to pull at his hair in hysteria. “They all want you to.” He’s sobbing now barely holding together. and Phil is so disappointed in his boy, and he is so disappointed in himself for missing the signs. Whatever they might of been.

Wilbur shoves a diamond sword into his hands at the same time Phil reaches forward to give his boy a hug. He wraps his arms around his neck and pulls him down to the crook of his shoulder and lets him fall apart in his arms. All of a sudden he is reminded of the months after the fire, where Wilbur would almost constantly mention how cold he was, it didn’t matter how long he held onto the boy or how long the fireplace kindled for, nothing could warm him up. Eventually though it stopped being brought up, at the time Phil had assumed that the cold had subsided but now he wondered if wilbur had just grown used to it. He wondered if there was a lot that Wilbur had just grown used to. 

“Please,” Wilbur croaks out “please just let it end.” and it’s so desperate and broken and tired that Phil has to break away the hug and look Wilbur in the eyes. He can’t believe he let it get to this, but given everything that’s happened, something in Phil breaks and he knows that he can’t deny his boy this. He grips the diamond sword so hard his knuckles turn white and plunges in and out of Wilbur’s body quick and easy. he drops the sword almost instantaneously. He grabs hold of Wilbur, as if embracing him would stop him from kneeling over and dying.

It’s a whisper; but as he holds his boy, as his boy dies in his arms he hears a quiet thank you. And Phil can’t help but think “does he know? does he know i’m proud of him? does he know i love him?”  
His voice hitches as he barely holds back a sob, absently he pushes some of the hair out of Wilbur's eyes, cradles him like the night he found him under the destructive light of a fire of no origin and tells him “you are my son. no matter what, you will always be my son.” 

Wilbur dies with a smile on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> phil: oh god my sons lives are all ruined and it’s all my fault for being a neglectful father what have i done  
> wilbur: i’m literally in the middle of a mental break after years of unsuccessfully repressing my emotions and the only way i know how to deal with all this is to destroy everything i love and then myself  
> techno: my entire family is falling apart and i never learnt how to healthily conceptualise my emotions except through acts of chaos and violence  
> tommy: after constant heart ache the people closest to my have all individually betrayed me in deeply personal ways and now i have to clean up everyone’s messes am i ever a loud to be a child  
> george: mm mushroom


End file.
